Chapter Ten
Laying out in a white string bikini had nothing to do with Ryder Moore.
It didn’t. All it had to do with was her hangover.
When she’d gotten home from breakfast with her friends, she’d tried for a total of five minutes to be productive before giving up. It was Sunday, and she started her job tomorrow. Everything could wait.
Today she’d relax.
For May, it was nice and hot, the sun bright, and she was tired. So she slathered on sunscreen, dragged out a lawn chair she’d found in the garage, grabbed a book, and there she was.
So see, her bikini was all about her and nothing about Ryder.
She wasn’t preoccupied with her neighbor.
She heard the roar of a motorcycle and her heart leapt into her throat. She clutched at her book and pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in the storyline.
As he pulled into the driveway she forced herself not to look up. She was reading. The book was so good she didn’t even notice him.
The engine died and the backyard fell silent.
She turned the page. See? Totally, completely engrossing.
She sucked in a breath.
She focused on the heroine’s name and realized her nipples were hard now at the thought of him watching her. Oh, good grief, this was ridiculous.
She turned another page.
A shadow fell over her, and excitement rushed Mach 10 through her veins. Without looking up she said, “Do you mind? You’re in my sun.”
“UV rays are bad for you.” Ryder’s voice was filled with amusement.
She turned another page. “I have sunscreen on.”
“Did you get your back?”
No, she hadn’t. She bit her lip, imagined his big hands roaming all over her skin. She knew what they felt like. Strong and slightly rough, but not too rough. Just rough enough to know you were touched by a man.
She turned another page. “I’m good.”
“I wouldn’t want you to burn. Or look like a pancake.” That voice, his low, honeyed voice.
Sophie couldn’t resist and finally peered up. His large frame blocked out the sun, casting him in a golden glow. “Pancake?”
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s what my sisters call it. When you’re burnt on one side and pale on the other. Like a pancake.”
She blinked up at him. “You have sisters?”
“I do.” He held up two fingers. “Younger sisters. I also have a mom and dad.”
How normal of him. She bit her lip. “Do they live in Revival?”
“They live a couple towns over.” He leaned back against the deck railing. “How about you?”
Should she be engaging in this kind of behavior? But wasn’t this what good neighbors did? She knew all about her neighbor in Chicago—a cute pixie princess who looked like a cross between Twiggy and Esmeralda. She was a graphic artist. She was the middle child of three girls, and her parents lived in Arlington Heights. See, this was what neighbors did. She cleared her throat. “I’m an only child.”
“And your parents?” he asked.
She couldn’t read his expression behind his sunglasses, but she saw her reflection staring back at her. Damn, but she did rock this swimsuit. “My parents are in India living in a meditation commune for the year.”
He laughed. “Oh really?”
She couldn’t help the quiver of a smile at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, really. I think next year they plan on going to Nigeria to paint.” She wrinkled her nose. “They’re what people like to call ‘free spirited.’”
“How’d you turn out like you did?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You wear Chanel sunglasses.”
“How do you know they’re Chanel?”
“I have two sisters that are label whores.”
She laughed before shrugging. Maybe friends was possible. “I don’t know. My parents are weird as hell, but when my mom got pregnant with me, even they couldn’t figure out how to drag a newborn all over the world. My dad’s from the South Side of Chicago, and when my grandma died, she left him her house that had been sitting empty. So they put aside their traveling and settled until I was eighteen and could fend for myself. So in some ways I had a very traditional childhood, except my parents cleansed the house with sage, chanted a lot, took in visitors from strange lands, and didn’t believe in rules.”
He raised his sunglasses to perch on top of his head. “What do you mean by until you were eighteen?”
They’d taken off the second she’d left for college, but she didn’t want to make a big deal about it. After all, she’d grown up listening to them talk about all the things they wanted to do once they were free, so it hadn’t exactly been a surprise. Wanting to change the subject, she shrugged. “They had things to do and places to see. What about you? What were your parents like?”
Silent for a moment, he studied her like he had questions before his expression cleared. “I grew up with a traditional family filled with a disgusting amount of love and support.”
She wondered what that was like. Her parents loved her, of course. They were great, as long as you didn’t expect anything parental from them. Over the years she’d begun to think of them as friends she was happy she didn’t have to see a lot of. She put on a bright smile. “That must have been nice.”
“It was.” His voice lowered. “What was a teenage Sophie like without rules?”
“Exactly how you’d expect me to be,” she said.
Silence hung in the air before he said, “So about your back.”
She gulped. “What about it?”
“Turn over and let me get it for you. I wouldn’t want all that pretty skin of yours to burn.”
She went tingly all over thinking about him rubbing his hands over her skin. “That’s not necessary.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid for me to touch you.”
Her brows slammed together. “Oh my God, you’re not honestly trying to dare me, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
“Well, it’s not going to work.”
“That’s a shame.” He gazed down at her with those searing gray eyes. How their coolness burned so bright was beyond her, but he left a trail of fire in his wake. Oh right, she needed to concentrate on making him a friend. Maybe friends that flirted a little. If she could just shift her perception to something like the way she viewed Charlie, it could work. Charlie was gorgeous, and sure they flirted sometimes, all good-natured and sexy, but it didn’t mean anything. She’d always looked at him as a wrong time, wrong place kind of guy.
Not too different from Ryder.
“Maybe I should come lay out with you. I have some reading to catch up on.”
She needed to say no, but instead she shrugged. “It’s a free country.”
How could they establish an easy friendship if she avoided him? She thought of using her list of things to do as an excuse but abandoned the idea. It was Sunday. Sunday was designed around no rules, no obligations, and all play. Wasn’t that why they called it Sunday Funday?
“In that case, I’ll be back.” He turned and jogged down the steps.
She tried not to notice his perfect ass in faded jeans.
What would he look like in a bathing suit?
She counted to ten. Slowly she inhaled and exhaled, trying to talk herself out of the giddy prospect of him shirtless. Up close. Where she could study his tattoos.
When that didn’t work she started to list all the bathing suit options that would cool her desire.
Speedos were absolutely on the top of the list. If he came out in a Speedo, all her problems would be solved because no self-respecting man wore a bathing suit like that.
Next on the list was plaid. Plaid swimsuits were for grandfathers and three-year-olds named Bradley. If you weren’t in either of those camps, you didn’t belong in plaid.
Jean shorts. Sure, they were cool back in the day, cruising the Chicago forest preserves on the back of a truck. Now, at their age, they indicated a man had never grown up and still had the fashion sense of a sixteen-year-old burnout.
Next—the door opened.
She jerked to look at him.
Her mouth went dry. Oh dear God. Deliver her from the evil temptation of this man.
His aviators were back in place, and he carried a file of papers and an iPad. Shirtless, his skin golden and muscled, his abs ridiculous, the black ink on his skin only highlighting his perfection. He wore red board shorts that hung low on his hips, emphasizing the cut between muscle and bone.
She had the irrational desire to punch him.
He ran up the steps, put his stuff on the small table where she had her glass of iced tea and her now-discarded book, and flashed her a smile. “Be right back.”
He jogged back down the stairs to his garage and disappeared inside before returning with a lawn chair and setting it up on the other side of the table.
When he stood, she glared at him.
“What?” His voice was a touch too innocent.
She waved a hand over him. “You’re so obnoxious.” He chuckled, not even pretending to be indignant. “You’re pretty obnoxious yourself, darlin’.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that the stupid dismissive pet name you settled on?”
He stretched out on his back, and all his glorious muscles glimmered in the sun. He picked up her sunscreen. “Yep.”
“Why’s that?” She really needed to look away, but she stared transfixed as he slathered sunscreen over his chest.
He winked at her. “That’s the one you like best.”
“It is not!” Her tone was full of outrage. But she couldn’t lie; his body distracted her. She wanted to bite his hip bone, then lick it, before she licked other things. Namely, she wanted to trace the word “freedom” written across his ribs with her tongue.
Wrong train of thought, and not at all helpful.
“Well, even if it’s not, I don’t really care.” His hand slid down his stomach, over the chiseled muscles. “I like the way your eyes flash.”
Sophie tried not to think about her body’s response. She looked up at the sun. “I can’t believe how warm it is today.”
His hand kept gliding over his skin. “It’s hotter here than up north where you live.”
She closed her eyes and let the warmth kiss her skin. “Did you ever think about living in Chicago?”
Moving from small-town Illinois to the big city was a common occurrence because of job opportunity and growth.
“Nope. I’ve always liked living in a small town. I’ve been there, but it’s not for me.”
“Why not?” She didn’t understand how anyone chose anything else.
When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful. “I guess I like knowing people. I like them knowing me. And I wouldn’t want to be that far away from my family.”
Lashes fluttering open, she turned her head to look at him. “It’s not that far. Look at James and Gracie, they spend time in both places.”
He grinned at her, his expression a little chagrined. “Does it make me weird that I like seeing my family for Sunday dinner?”
Sophie couldn’t imagine, so she smiled and said, “Yeah, totally.”
* * *
Ryder laughed. She was such a little brat, and holy shit did she look fantastic in a swimsuit. A fact he chose to ignore. He shrugged. “I’m not going to apologize.”
“Nor should you.” She sighed, sounding a bit wistful.
He couldn’t help wondering about her childhood and her familial relationship and how that might have affected her. He’d wanted to question her, but the second she mentioned her parents, her shoulders had gone completely rigid and her face pursed with defensiveness. It was an interesting reaction, given her words had been delivered with a light breeziness. In his profession he’d learned how to read body language, learned to watch for tells in a person’s actions. Sophie’s tells had reminded him of a cornered animal with its hackles raised.
So despite his curiosity, he’d decided not to press and ask a question he already knew the answer to. “What about you? Ever think of leaving the big, bad city for the quiet life?”
She shook her head. “God no. I’d hate it.”
“How do you know that?”
“I like the constant activity, the fast pace. Being able to go to any store I want and go out to dinner at all the best restaurants.”
He got that, but those were all things. Not connections. There was no mention of friends, or even her job. Another observation he intended to investigate deeper, but for now he kept the conversation light. “Maddie mentioned you ran a Chicago entertainment blog. What made you decide to do that?”
She lifted her head to the sun before stretching a little and letting her shoulders drop.
He ignored the lithe movements of her body.
She sighed again, appearing to grow lazy in the sun. “I worked in PR for a media company, and it just made sense. I had a lot of connections, and I love to go out and try new things, love making all those discoveries off the beaten path and sharing them with other people.” She laughed a little. “I started it on a whim, actually. I did it for fun and didn’t expect anything to come from it. But I’m really good at my job, and in a year, places all over Chicago were begging me to feature them. So I got to go to all these great, exciting fun places and get paid for doing it.” Her brow furrowed.
“What?” he prompted, wanting her to continue and hopeful she would if he didn’t interrupt her.
“Oh nothing.” She waved a hand in the air. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.” When she didn’t answer, he tried again. “I really want to know.”
She shook her head a little. “I was on track to quit my job at the end of the year and focus on that full-time.” She cast him a furtive glance. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
He wanted her secrets. “I promise.”
She bit her lip a little. “I’d even made a business plan—and I’m not a planner.”
He got it. She’d had hope. Carefully, he asked, “Did your company’s scandal hurt the blog that much?”
“Yeah, it did. Maybe it would have been okay if I hadn’t been a VP, but every time it was mentioned anywhere, they named the executives and how they’d all been investigated. Chicago likes its corruption, and even though I’d been cleared of any suspicion, my name kept getting tangled.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not great for PR, you know?”
“I can imagine.” It wasn’t just her job she’d lost but her plans for the future.
She shrugged, like she was trying to roll away the bad memories. “I can probably rebuild once a little time has passed and people have forgotten. We’ll see. I don’t know if I have it in me to start again.”
“Sophie?”
“Yes?” She glanced at him.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“It was nothing.” She turned her attention toward the yard. “Shit happens. We deal and go on.”
It was something, but she was done talking and, from her dismissive tone, seemed to want to lighten the mood. So he’d help her along. He grinned at her and asked her a question only a muscle head would get excited about. “Wanna wash our kick-ass cars?”
“Absolutely.” Her expression brightened and she practically jumped out of the lawn chair.
He laughed. She didn’t disappoint. He hadn’t underestimated her love of fine automobiles.
Right then and there, he vowed to do his best to give her a good last day before she started what she clearly saw as her sentence in Revival.